


Somebody to Love

by naasad



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Asexual Racetrack Higgins, Asexual Spot Conlon, First Kiss, Love at First Sight, M/M, Makeouts, Panromantic Racetrack Higgins, Present Tense, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: In his excitement after the strike is ended, Race steals a kiss and a heart.





	Somebody to Love

It's real quick when it happens.

They're high on winning, Race moreso than others, so he leans down and lifts the nearest person off the ground, presses their lips together with a loud smack, and sets them right back down.

He thinks nothing of it, immediately goes back to cheering with his fellows, figuring if there's a fight to be had, it'll come sooner or later, and if not, well, everyone knows. That's just Race.

Meanwhile, behind him, Spot touches his lips with something like awe, staring after the random Manhattan newsie that had the audacity to steal a kiss from the King of Brooklyn.

A few of his right hand men move toward said newsie, but Spot stops them with a look, leaning against a nearby wall and watching carefully, taking in his excitement, his boldness, his golden locks, and his meadow eyes.

Spot isn't an artist like Jack, but he can still paint a pretty picture and recognize a masterpiece already built.

He scowls and pushes off, disappearing toward his borough, his people following one-by-one.

He's quite sure he's just fallen in love, and nobody has time for that.

It isn't much later, Jack sends Race to make sure Pulitzer is upholding his bargain in the other boroughs. He's already made his way through Flushing, and guesses he'll be home from Brooklyn just as the sun sets.

The Brooklyn Lodge is only a few streets away now, and he glances up at the maze of fire escapes, trying to track the sun's progress.

Someone whistles appreciatively just ahead. "Looking for me?"

Race looks over to see Spot Conlon leaning against a rooftop. "That I am!" he calls, scrambling up quickly.

"What can I do for you?" Spot asks, mock bowing.

"Jack wants to know-" Spot's face crumbles but quickly rearranges itself "-if you's had any trouble from Mister Joe since the strike." Race pulls himself up on the lip of the roof, swinging his legs and lighting up a cigar.

"Can't say I has," Spot says, eyeing those lips.

Race grunts and offers him a cigar. "Well, that's my job done. Say, though, I been walkin' all day. Mind if I sit an' take a breather up here?"

Spot takes the cigar with his mouth and presses the tip to the light in Race's. "Stay as long as you like. What's your name?"

"Racetrack," Race says, proudly. "Friends call me Race."

"Spot Conlon," Spot says, offering his hand as Race looks at him like he's grown a second head. "Sean for you."

Race blinks in surprise and tips his hat. "Why, is you coming on to me, Mister Sean?"

Spot tips his head to the side. "Isn't that what you do when someone kisses you?"

Race chokes on his smoke and nearly falls six stories to the street. "That was _you_?"

Spot shoves down the crushed feeling and puts his cigar back in his mouth. "Ah, seems we misunderstood each other," he says around it. "You just ignore me, then."

"Wait." Race reaches out and touches Spot's arm. "Antonio," he said.

Spot raises an eyebrow. "So?"

Race stands and looms over him. "Well, we's got on the wrong foot, I think."

"Do you?" Spot asks.

Race nods. "I kiss a lotta fellers just for fun - ladies, too, and some you can't tell."

Spot feels his ears go warm and something sick coil in his belly. "Good for you."

"Aw, don't be jealous, _favoloso_ ," Race purrs. "I'm willing to try this if you are."

Spot snorts and laughs. "Maybe that works on some, but I ain't looking for someone to tell me I'm pretty, _bello_."

Race's jaw drops.

"What?" Spot asks. "You think you're the only one living in New York knows a bit of _lingua italiana_?"

Race lunges forward and captures him with a kiss that knocks the breath out of his lungs. Eventually, he retreats, panting for breath, and presses their foreheads together, speaking so close Spot can feel his breath on his lips. "I ain't never had someone fall in love with me before." He strokes Spot's cheekbone. "Kinda makes me fall in love right back."

Spot gasps for breath and wraps his hand around the back of Race's neck before diving right back into another kiss.

Race moans and pulls away to suck bruises into the burnished skin of his neck. He reaches for the buttons of his trousers.

"No." Spot swats Race's hand away from him.

Race stares a moment, then nods. "Yeah, me, neither, really." He picks Spot up by his knees and lays him out on the rooftop, covering him with kisses.

Spot leans up and attaches his lips and teeth to Race's jaw, imagining him having to explain that to _Jack Kelly_.

Race groans in pleasure and mortification. "That's gonna be impossible to hide."

"I know," Spot says, smug as a cat.

Race shakes his head, laughing, and continues kissing him long after the sun goes down.


End file.
